Happy Valentines Day

by Kevin Surbaugh

Today is Valentines Day. The day where all over the United States we celebrate our love for that special someone. Today, I will be dong so in this public forum.

I the "Prince of Thrift" would like to give a great big Valentines Day shout out to the most wonderful woman in my life. Even as we prepare to move this week to our new digs, I want you to know (and I don't care who else knows) that I love you. You are my one and only gal. The gal I am committed to for the rest of my life. It's not always easy, but life isn't easy either. Like the swans of the legends and folklore you are the one for me.  Together we will continue to dream of our future and our new house "La Maison du Cygne." Just remember that my heart, body, mind and soul is always thinking of you no matter where I am.

---
go ahead share your thoughts with me now, my ears are open. I'm always eager to hear what you think.

follow me on Twitter and facebook

---

---

Cowboy Cookie Mix in a Jar

2/3 cup rolled oats

1/4 cup packed brown sugar

1/4 cup white sugar

1/4 cup chopped pecans

1/2 cup semisweet chocolate chips

2/3 cup all-purpose flour

1/2 teaspoon baking powder

1/2 teaspoon baking soda

1/8 teaspoon salt

Layer the ingredients in a 1 quart jar in the order given. Press each layer firmly in place before adding the next layer.

Include a card with the following instructions:
Cowboy Cookie Mix in a Jar
1. Preheat oven to 350 degrees F (175 degrees C). Grease cookie sheets.
2. In a medium bowl, mix together 1/2 cup melted butter or margarine, 1 egg, and 1 teaspoon of vanilla. Stir in the entire contents of the jar. You may need to use your hands to finish mixing. Shape into walnut sized balls. Place 2 inches apart on prepared cookie sheets.
3. Bake for 11 to 13 minutes in the preheated oven.
Transfer from cookie sheets to cool on wire racks.

Vanilla Wafer Candy Canes

60 vanilla wafers

1 square BAKER'S White Chocolate, melted

1 Tbsp. each red and white colored sugars Preparation:
Arrange 8 wafers in candy cane-shape on parchment-covered baking sheet. Repeat 3 times to make 4 candy canes.
Brush chocolate onto flat sides of remaining wafers. Arrange 7 wafers, chocolate-sides down, on each candy cane to make second layer of wafers. Refrigerate 10 min. or until chocolate is firm.
Brush wafers lightly with water; sprinkle every other wafer with red sugar. Sprinkle white sugar onto remaining wafers.

Note: You can make candy canes ahead of time. Store in airtight container at room temperature up to 1 week before serving.

Happy New Year

by Kevin Surbaugh

I wanted to write a quick post and wish each everyone of my readers a very Happy New Year. May God richly bless each and everyone of you in 2012. 
As we go in to this new year may I share my life verse with you.

May our Lord Jesus Christ himself and God our Father encourage you and strengthen you in every good thing you do and say. God loved us, and through his grace he gave us a good hope and encouragement that continues forever.
- 2 Thessalonians 2:16-17 (NCV)

What are your hopes and dreams for the 2012?


---
go ahead share your thoughts with me now, my ears are open. I'm always eager to hear what you think.

follow me on Twitter and facebook

---

---

Christmas 2011

by Kevin Surbaugh

I hope this post finds you well. I pray your Christmas is a blessed one. I also want to wish you a Happy New Year!

I absolutely love Christmas, it is the best time of the year. Peace and joy surround us, even as times seem rough.Since it is Christmas time, that also means it is time to reflect back on the past year. It hasn't been the best of years, but it has been a good year in many ways also.
I left a part-time job at Chick-fil-a (I love that place) to take what has turned out to be a part-time job at a grocery store in the area. They are building a new store and perhaps I can get transferred there full-time when it opens in February or March. The new store will be closer to me, in fact it's right at the half way point, so I am really hopeful that I can get on at that store. Only time will see I guess.
As such it has been rough being underemployed. My best savings plans have gone out the window and we struggle.  However, I keep up the hope and trust that our God above will provide for our needs. Which includes a house that we can call our own.  There has been thought of disconnecting the internet in order to cut expenses.So far however, I have been able to stave off that decision, but each month when rent comes due, we think about it again.
At Thanksgiving we went all out and had a big Thanksgiving dinner with the step son (Eric) and his girlfriend, two people from church along with the wife and I.  It was an absolutely fantastic time.  No matter how tough things are, we all have things that we can be thankful for. My wife and I had hoped that we could have visited our families this year in North Carolina (a state I personally have never been to) and Kansas, but that just didn't happen. Nor was I able to go full-time with this website. That's okay though, The Lord God above is in control.

Noel

As for the website, we have taken steps to meld the blog and website together so that they are linked together more fluidly. We did this by taking on the name of our lessons "Wisdom Steps 101". Since we are rooted in the Bible, we felt this was the best name. Dave Ramsey has "Baby Steps" and we have Wisdom Steps, because the Bible is chalk full of Wisdom. Not only in finances but every area of our life.

In addition the website now has a Bulletin Board (Forum/Message Board). Whatever you call it, I believe it is a great  addition to the site and hope it encourages more interaction between the readers and the site. I have taken steps to fight the spammers and have a growing number of moderators helping with this effort. The latest action was to cane the settings to change key words that spammers love to use into a confession to be a spammer and disrespectful of anyone ready the posting.


Merry Christmas and Happy New Year. As I leave you take time to read this great Christmas poem:

The Story of the Christmas Guest
by Helen Steiner Rice



It happened one day at December's end
Some neighbors called on an old-time friend.

And they found his shop so meager and mean,
Made gay with a thousand boughs of green.

And old Conrad was sitting with face ashine.
When he suddenly stopped as he stitched the twine.

And he said "My friends at dawn today,
When the cock was crowing the night away,

The Lord appeared in a dream to me.
And He said, 'I'm coming your guest to be"

So I've been busy with feet astir,
Strewing my shop with branches of fir.

The table is spread and the kettle is shined,
And over the rafters the holly is twined.

And now I'll wait for my Lord to appear;
And listen closely so I will hear,

His steps as he nears my humble place.
And I'll open the door and I'll look on his face."

Then his friends went home and left Conrad alone,
For this was the happiest day he had known.

For long since his family had passed away.
And Conrad had spent many a sad Christmas Day.

But he knew with the Lord as his Christmas guest,
This Christmas would be the dearest and best.

So he listened with only joy in his heart,
And with every sound he would rise with a start,

And looked for the Lord to be at his door.
Like the vision that he had had a few hours before.

So he ran to the window after hearing a sound,
But all he could see on the snow covered ground

Was a shabby beggar whose shoes were torn.
And all his clothes were ragged and worn.

But old Conrad was touched and he went to the door
And he said, "Your feet must be cold and sore.

I have some shoes in my shop for you.
And I have a coat to keep you warmer, too."

So with grateful heart the man went away.
But Conrad notice the time of day

And he wondered what made the dear Lord so late,
And how much longer he'd have to wait.

Then he heard another knock, and he ran to the door,
But it was only a stranger once more.

A bent old lady with a shawl of black,
And a bundle of kindling piled on her back.

But she asked only for a place to rest,
a place that was reserved, for Conrad's great guest.

But her voice seemed to plead, "Don't send me away,
Let me rest for awhile this Christmas Day."

So Conrad brewed her a steaming cup
And told her to sit at the table and sup.

After she had left, he was filled with dismay
For he saw that the hours were slipping away

The Lord had not come as He said He would
And Conrad felt sure he had misunderstood.

When out of the stillness he heard a cry.
"Please help, me and tell me - Where am I?"

So again he opened his friendly door.
And stood disappointed as twice before.

It was a child who had wandered away,
And was lost from her family on Christmas Day.

Again Conrad's heart was heavy and sad,
But he knew he could make this little girl glad.

So he called her in and he wiped her tears,
And he quieted all her childish fears.

Then he led her back to her home once more.
Then as he entered his own darkened door,

He knew that the Lord was not coming today,
For the hours of Christmas, had all passed away.

So he went to his room, and he knelt down to pray.
He said, "Lord, why did you delay?

What kept You from coming to call on me?
I wanted so much Your face to see."

Then softly, in the silence, a voice he heard.
"Lift up your head - I have kept My word.

Three times my shadow crossed your floor.
Three times I came to your lowly door.

I was the beggar with bruised cold feet;
I was the woman you gave something to eat;
I was the child on the homeless street.

Three times I knocked, three times I came in,
And each time I found the warmth of a friend.


Of all the gifts, love is the best.
I was honored to be your Christmas guest.

---
go ahead share your thoughts with me now, my ears are open. I'm always eager to hear what you think.

follow me on Twitter and facebook

---

---

---

Christmas or Holiday

by Kevin Surbaugh

I have complained a number of times about stores trying to sell Holiday Decorations rather then Christmas Decorations. They claim that they don't want to offend anyone. In the process they offend the people who celebrate Christmas. My argument has always been if you don't want to offend anyone, then start selling the Menorah's that those who celebrate Hanukkah at this time of year.
Well a new website that I found makes the claim that such tactics also offend the very group of people that they want to more inclusive of.

Bring Back Christmasis a website quoting Ben Stein, a Jew who says they don't mind if Christmas decorations are called what they are. They have nothing to do with their beliefs anyway. Check out the site and see what you think for yourself.

I am a Jew, and every single one of my ancestors was Jewish. And it does not bother me even a little bit when people call those beautiful lit up, bejewelled trees, Christmas trees. I don’t feel threatened. I don’t feel discriminated against. That’s what they are, Christmas trees.

It doesn’t bother me a bit when people say, ‘Merry Christmas’ to me. I don’t think they are slighting me or getting ready to put me in a ghetto. In fact, I kind of like it. It shows that we are all brothers and sisters celebrating this happy time of year. It doesn’t bother me at all that there is a manger scene on display at a key intersection near my beach house in Malibu. If people want a crèche, it’s just as fine with me as is the Menorah a few hundred yards away.
- Bring Back Christmas

So as we celebrate this most wonderful time of the year, lets remember that we are all made in His image and whether we celebrate Christmas of Hanukkah we can respect each others traditions. I for one as mentioned at the beginning get offended by calling Christmas Trees as Holiday Trees, but I don't mind the clerk at the store saying a generic Happy Holiday's, not knowing which day that the customer on the other side of the register celebrates. It is nice to know that Ben Stein isn't offended by Merry Christmas and agrees that calling a Christmas Tree a Holiday Tree is pretty stupid.



---
go ahead share your thoughts with me now, my ears are open. I'm always eager to hear what you think.

follow me on Twitter and facebook

---

---

True Meaning of Christmas

by Kevin Surbaugh (message derived from Bible.com)

With Christmas approaching I thought it might be a great time to look at what the Bible has to say about the true meaning of Christmas.This also is the message that I will be preaching this afternoon, when I speak to a group of men at church.

God is a giver, not a taker. Throughout Scripture, we find evidence of His great generosity towards His creation. From the beginning of time as we know it, when He called forth Creation--when He gave existence to things that had never before existed--we can see the true heart of God. He literally gave of Himself to make each one of us.

"then the LORD God formed the man of dust from the ground and breathed into his nostrils the breath of life, and the man became a living creature."

- Genesis 2:7

The very nature of God is to give, to create, and to bless His creation.

Even the secular story of Santa Clause is symbolism of God's giving. How? It may not be the traditional meaning, but for many Christian families that don't want to tell false stories of Santa to their children have devised a way of using Santa Clause to illustrate God's love and the true meaning of Christmas. You see Santa has a big heart and gives freely to all the good boys and girls, or so the legend says. In the same way, as John 3:16 says, God loved the world so much that he gave his only son, Jesus Christ whose birth we celebrate on Christmas Day. You see Santa and God both give cheerfully and freely and likewise God asks that we give in the same way.




Unfortunately, many of us are so self-absorbed and greedy for gain that we do not even have the eyes to see the countless gifts that God has already worked into our lives. Yet, God wants us to be givers too. He created us to be like Him--to pour of ourselves into other people, and to reciprocate His love for us. God created us with the power to be able to give back to Him! When I really stop and think about this, it truly amazes me--that God--the sum of ALL good things, who holds ALL power and authority, would humble Himself in this way. He didn't make himself entirely independent of His creation, or set Himself up as a mere casual observer of humankind, though He certainly had the power to do so. Instead, He allowed Himself to love us to the point where our returned love would be a blessing to Him. Each one of us, little and insignificant as we are, has been given the profound gift of the ability to bring joy to the heart of God. It is extremely humbling to me, when I stop and consider that God has thus set the laws of His creation into motion. That the One who is Love personified, would actually be blessed by the love that I could offer Him. This is the greatest gift of all, and it is given to every human being who has ever lived or will live--the ability to give of ourselves to God and to each other. Without this gift, life would be very empty indeed.

In the mad rush of the holiday season, the true meaning of giving is often forgotten. What is meant to be a time of blessing and joy becomes instead, a time of stress and depression. Recently, as I was praying for the church and the nations of the world, a great sorrow began to rise up inside of me. God has placed so many gifts within His church. Each member of the Body of Christ has been given strategic giftings and a unique place that none other can fulfill in quite the same way. Yet, so many are not moving into their rightful place. They are afraid to use their gifts, or they think their gifts are insignificant. Many are secretly hurt and angry at God because they feel they haven't been given anything remarkable. They mistake God's anointing and talent in certain individuals as a sign of God's approval of those people, and they assume their "lack" is a sign that God doesn't love them as much as He loves others...that God is somehow "prouder" of other people than He is of them. Because of this fear and resentment, they are crippled in taking their proper place in God's kingdom, falling short of the gift they were created to be.

Others are busily using their gifts, and by their own efforts are successful in the eyes of the world. Maybe they have a thriving ministry. Maybe they are making good money. Maybe they have the respect and admiration of those around them. This doesn't necessarily mean, however, that their actions are a blessing to the heart of God, or that they are even obeying what God has told them to do. Ecclesiastes 4:4 says "And I saw that all labor and all achievement spring from man's envy of his neighbor. This too is meaningless, a chasing after the wind." Many are so busy creating their own kingdoms, that the kingdom of God suffers a great lack. Their pride and busy occupations have blocked the measure of their true worth in God's kingdom.

Who will fill these missing places in the body of Christ? Even now as we go about our daily lives, all creation groans in frustration, waiting for the sons of God to be revealed (Romans 8:19-22). There is so much work to be done, and so few who are willing to do it. John 4:35-36 says ".... I tell you, open your eyes and look at the fields! They are ripe for harvest. Even now the reaper draws his wages, even now he harvests the crop for eternal life, so that the sower and the reaper may be glad together." God intends both the sower and the reaper to share the same joy of the harvest. There should be no competition among God's faithful servants, no jostling each other for the "prime" positions, no envy or personal ambition. If we truly love the Lord, our only goal should be to bless Him, to serve Him, and to advance His kingdom.

As I was praying, I saw a vision of the Lord, manifested in the person of someone I love very much. In the vision, I saw this person laying in bed, exhausted after a hard day's work. The Lord said to me "What do you think she would like right now? How could you bless her?" I could instantly see that a cup of hot tea and a home-cooked meal would be just as much, if not more of a blessing to her than whatever big, distant work I could conjure up to show her my love. Immediately, I could see what God was trying to show me. We are created like Him. If we appreciate a "small" gift given in love more than the fanfare of a "big" gift given in insincerity, how much more does God?

As the vision continued, I could see Jesus sitting alone by a road with people running up and down it. They were all very busy. Some were stopping and chatting with Him for a moment here and there, but as I overheard their conversations, they were mostly to inform Jesus of what they wanted from Him, or what they were going to do for Him. One man in particular ran up to him. "Oh, Jesus, I'm so excited," he cried. "I'm off to tell the world all about you!" Quickly he ran off before Jesus could say anything at all. My heart broke, as I saw Him there, sitting by Himself. Yes, He wanted to bless those people with things beyond their wildest imagination. Yes, He wanted them to find fulfillment in serving Him. But what He really wanted most of all was for those people to come and sit with Him and talk awhile...to hold His hand and look deep into His eyes...to share their dreams and sorrows, and to hear His joys and sorrows...to let Him simply give His love to them. In all their mad rush to give and get, they missed the greatest treasure of all, sitting right in front of them.

So much of what we do for God is with mixed motives for our own personal fulfillment. We all want to have a purpose and reason for living. We all hope that if we were to die tomorrow, we would leave a legacy of some kind behind us. Yet for most of us, this becomes the end to which we live. Sadly, when we make anything other than God our reason for living, that thing will become an idol in our lives. Even if it is a good thing, like a ministry or a mate, it can still never fulfill us because it wasn't designed to. It simply can't! It doesn't even have the ability to fulfill. In fact, those idols will begin to work against us, and cause us suffer spiritual barrenness. They will put us on a treadmill until we become broken-hearted and exhausted trying to keep it all alive. On the other hand, if we receive them simply as the gifts they are and continue to love God first in our lives, we will be given the ability to enjoy them, for this too is a gift. Ecclesiastes. 3:13 says "That everyone may...find satisfaction in all his toil--this is the gift of God." The key is simply to

"seek first his kingdom and his righteousness and all these other things will be given to you as well." - Matthew 6:33

When all is said and done, only those things which were done "as unto the Lord" will count for anything. In God's eyes, there are no "big" or "small" things done for His Kingdom. All He asks of us is to obey Him in what He tells us to do. Let us follow through and obey Him, whether His commands seem great or small. After all, it is Jesus we are talking about here! The One who left His home in glory to bleed and die a humiliating, painful for each one of us. The One who made himself vulnerable to us, by giving us the ability to bless him or hurt him. As we obey Him, we bring such joy to His heart! Then His joy, which is a strength to the spirit of man, becomes our joy as well. God is not impressed, nor is He blessed by the best of our works done in self. He is only impressed by the attitude of our hearts.

As we look around the world this holiday season, let us stop and consider Who's birthday we are celebrating. Let us not forget to offer sincere thanks to our precious, precious Lord for His many blessings in our lives. And let us show our thankfulness by our actions! Let us offer the same mercy that God has given us to those around us. Let us press deeper into the heart of God, that we may have something to offer this world besides the same old cycle of greed, pride and rebellion. Let us not be ashamed to become the servant of all, showing our love for God by laying down our rights, our plans, our time and money for the sake of others. Let us demonstrate our love to God by giving Him the very things we are afraid to lay down, trusting that He has the best plan for our lives and would never use or abuse us. Let us truly fulfill the greatest commandment, which is to

"And he answered, "You shall love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your strength and with all your mind, and your neighbor as yourself." - Luke 10:27

. Each of us is destined to make a profound difference in the world. Let us not fall short of our destinies! Let us give the greatest Christmas gift that we have been afforded to give; one that we can give year-round--to bless the heart of God!

If you do not know God the way you want to, you can receive the gift of knowing Him right now. Simply pray to Him from your heart and ask him to forgive you for your sins and turning your back on Him. Romans 10:9, "If you confess with your mouth that Jesus is Lord and believe in your heart that God raised him from the you shall be saved." Ask Him to come into your life and make you a new person, born of His spirit. You can give to Him a gift He considers more dear than anything else in the world--yourself. In return, you will receive eternal life with Him, which begins the moment you are born again. May God bless each of you richly as you seek to give unto Him your all.

---
go ahead share your thoughts with me now, my ears are open. I'm always eager to hear what you think.

follow me on Twitter and facebook

---

---

Thanksgiving Day Thoughts

by Kevin Surbaugh

Tomorrow we gather will gather to have thanksgiving dinner together, as we should  spend time with our families. But a growing number of stores are attempting to put greed before family.  For several years grocery stores have been upon for limited hours on Thanksgiving, but department stores have been closed. Now a number of grocery stores have found customers still come in on Thanksgiving, so they have extended the hours they are open that day. Some not even closing early at all. However, it is the department stores that concern me more. There are a group of stores that are banking that you will leave your family and shop their stores on Thanksgiving. This is a disgrace.  Thanksgiving is sacred. It is a time for families to get together and be thankful for what they have.  Something we really should be doing everyday of our lives.  My suggestion, ignore the stores. Don't let them be profitable on Thanksgiving day. If they see that sales are poor, they will return to the family and traditional black Friday sales. Don't let these greedy department stores destroy the family anymore then they already are.

In addition, Thanksgiving is reportedly the number one (1) day for phone calls. However, i wonder what they are talking about? Are they calls of thanksgiving or just chit chat because it is Thanksgiving Day? Here is an idea. Why not call someone you haven't talked to forever and offer thanks for something they have done.


Example:

1. Call your fourth grade teacher and thank her for teaching you science. Because of her you became Molecular Biologist. 
2. Call your best friend in high school and thank them for being a friend during those years.
3. What other ideas do you have? Why not make those calls (assuming they are still living)  and offer thanks to someone this thanksgiving.? 

 In conclusion I would like to say Happy Thanksgiving and thank you for reading my blog.
---
go ahead share your thoughts with me now, my ears are open. I'm always eager to hear what you think.

follow me on Twitter and facebook

---

---

Easter Sunday! How Do You Celebrate?

Morning! Today is Easter Sunday. The day (if we are Christians) we remember when the Lord Jesus Christ arose from the dead (aka the Resurrection) . It is an important day in our Christian faith. As such we will be honoring the Lord and this day both on this blog and our actions today (of course actions should be seen everyday).

This morning I am getting up and cooking a hot breakfast for my wife of fried ham, scrambled eggs, hash browns and coffeecake to top it all off. It will be one delicious Easter morning breakfast.

Then we will be off to church for our Easter Sunday service. I know the pastor will have a great message because he always does. After which will be the weekly church potluck with the Spanish service. My wife and I made deviled eggs yesterday for something different at this weeks meal. To finish off we will have our Sunday School class that we have while the Spanish service is going. To say the least it is expected to one fantastic Easter Sunday.

How about you? What are you doing this Easter? Do you go to church? For those that don't how do you celebrate the day?

---
go ahead share your thoughts with me now, my ears are open. I'm always eager to hear what you think.

follow me on Twitter and facebook

---

---

Google To Buy DebtFree4ever

Austin blogger, Kevin Surbaugh announced today that Google has bought DebtFree4ever.net, a personal finance blog, for an undisclosed amount as the technology group looks to widen its range of services.

Surbaugh who started the blog 5-years ago on Google's Blogger site while he lived in Topeka, KS said, that "this is a good fit. With Google in the in the driver seat the blog will be more in a position to be on top of breaking business news." Something Surbaugh has desired since he began the blog. In addition he believes being in Austin, TX puts him in a better position as Austin has in some ways become the Silicon Valley of the South.





---
go ahead share your thoughts with me now, my ears are open. I'm always eager to hear what you think.

follow me on Twitter and facebook

---

---

Happy New Year - Resolutions (past year and this)

The 3 C's of life: choices, chances and changes ~ You must make a choice to take a chance or your life will never change..Happy 2011

Time to look back at last years Resolutions and see how I did. Twenty-Ten was a great year in many ways. In others not so great. Lets have a look shall we?

Finish paying off the car. (I expect to have the last $800 paid off by the end of February.) As expected I paid off my car in late February. You can find a video of the final payment on youTube.

Book (I have started working on a book, that I hope will be very different from any other personal finance book out there. It is my hope to finish it and find a publisher for it by the end of the year.)
This is a project that I am still working on. In fact I actually have 3 books in the works. If you count the book idea my wife has then that is 4 books. As 3 of these 4 books will be collaborative efforts.

Eliminate the Chase credit card debt.
I finished paying off the last of this card in September or October of 2010. Finally no more playing with fire.

Pay off the IRS
This debt is gone to. Well I think. I have been in negotiations with the IRS on this and they have eliminated part of the debt. I am waiting on an official letter letting me know of a final decision. In the process I have sent some cash (since October) to help reduce this amount even further. If the letter is not in my favor as I expect it to be I would still have to pay $400.

Marriage and Honeymoon
The goal at the start of the year was to pay for this fantastic day with cash. A task that was accomplished, that we made several changes to the honeymoon to make it happen. Much of the event was paid for by June and certainly all was paid for by the day of our August wedding. It was a beautiful wedding. One that can be seen in a video on this blog or on youTube.

Now time for the resolutions of 2011

1. Books
- I plan to get at least (one book hopefully more) finished by the end of the year. Even more I hope to find a publisher for the (those) book(s).
2. Rebuild my savings
- there is no question that I must rebuild my savings ASAP.
3. Either become my own boss or get a full-time job with insurance
I would say health insurance is one thing I need more then income. While earning enough to pay the rent and utilities would be nice; I really need insurance for my wife and I.

---
go ahead share your thoughts with me now, my ears are open. I'm always eager to hear what you think.

follow me on Twitter and facebook

---

---

---

austin bloggers

Powered By Ringsurf

Our 1st Christmas as a Married Couple

My wife and I ate Christmas Dinner alone this Christmas. We didn't have much for Christmas, but we had each other and that's what really matters. For dinner we had Turkey, mashed potatoes, gravy, corn bread stuffing, green beans, cranberry sauce and deviled eggs. I also made Strawberry cookies (pictured) and 7-Layer cookies (not pictured), while my wife made no-bake cookies (pictured).


A nearby church stopped by Christmas day. It was the same church that my wife felt very uncomfortable attending. They were inviting everyone in the complex to attend their church. In addition they also gave us a New Testament and a $5 gift card to McDonald's. We will be able to use the New Testament in the Monday night ministry at church. In addition the $5 McDonald's gift card will be a real blessing on the those nights we are rushed.

We will have dinner Wednesday after work with her son and his fiance. Today they were in Dallas with some of her family. Hope each of you had a great Christmas. What did you and your families do for the holidays?



---
go ahead share your thoughts with me now, my ears are open. I'm always eager to hear what you think.

follow me on Twitter and facebook

---

---

---

austin bloggers

Powered By Ringsurf

Merry Christmsas and the "Wild" Christmas Trees of Highway 360

One of the things I have heard about from other Austin bloggers, like Don't Mess With Taxes, is about what she called "wild" Christmas Trees. Apparently the folks around this area will stop along the highway and place decorations on the many trees growing along Loop 360 (aka Capital of Texas Highway). The decorated trees (Juniper Bushes) seem to be between, FM 2222 and Hwy 183, but it seems that the number of trees decorated grows from year to year.
In a post from the blog, Life Distilled, it seems the local paper did some investigating with a tongue in cheek article (that's no longer available on their site - not even in the archives).

It’s a bit of a seasonal mystery, one that has attracted the attention of the Texas Department of Transportation, which maintains the right-of-way along the highway. (O.K., we admit we stirred things up when we called them.) Turns out this Austin display is, well, unlawful.

As someone, who loves Christmas and Christmas trees, I had to see this for myself. I just couldn't wait for the Christmas season, so that I could view these trees of love of the holiday. Not to mention sharing these trees with all of my readers.

Once, I heard that the trees, had begun to appear, I made the detour off my normal route down 183, to see the trees.  While I was there taking these pictures, one of the local news teams arrived, wanting to interview me about my thoughts on the trees.  I mentioned how it was unique to Austin and that it was a great sign of Christmas Spirit and giving, but all that was cut out for the partial sentence that they used in the story.

Hope you enjoy the picture(s) and video (below).

Have a very Merry Christmas!

 

Video from KVUE-TV (ABC Austin News), who interviewed me as I was taking these pictures Dec. 2, 2010.

---
go ahead share your thoughts with me now, my ears are open. I'm always eager to hear what you think.

follow me on Twitter and facebook

---

---

---

austin bloggers

Powered By Ringsurf

Miracle in Climax Canyon

Miracle in Climax Canyon

by Daniel 'Chip' Ciammaichella

"Ya know something? Life stinks." Chuck was talking to nobody in particular. The bar
had few other patrons on this Christmas Eve, just a few old men nursing their beers, not
paying any attention to Chuck's complaints. Chuck didn't care if they were listening or
not, he was quite drunk, and continued talking.
"I don't see what's so special about Christmas. What's to be so happy about? Life stinks,
Christmas or no Christmas. Who needs it anyway? If Christmas is so special why don't
you buy me another drink, bartender? That would be a fine Christmas gift indeed."
The bartender heard that, and walked over to where Chuck was slouched at the bar.
"No problem, pal. It is Christmas Eve, after all. I'll give you one on the house, but it's
your last one, and you'll have to keep your voice down too. Merry Christmas." He slid a
shot of Wild Turkey in front of Chuck.
Chuck only nodded, took his drink, and then resumed his oration.
"Yea, Merry Christmas. What's to be merry about? In the space of a year I've lost my job,
my wife, my kids, and any dreams I might have had. Last week I wrecked my truck, and
my landlord threw me out yesterday. He was in the Christmas spirit, wasn't he?" Chuck
slammed the shot down his throat before continuing. "To top off the holiday season, my
sister called to tell me that my Dad probably won't live to the New Year, and I can't get
back to see him. What the heck do I have to be merry about this Christmas?"
"Where does your dad live, son?"
The voice came from Chuck's right. He turned to face a chubby little old man sporting a
great white beard, dressed in the trappings of a Salvation Army Santa Claus.
"When did you sneak in, Santa? Whatta ya doing here anyway? Oh, I get it. You're gonna
spend all that money you collect in them iron pots all day. If you're gonna have a drink
yourself, at least you could buy me one. It is Christmas, and you're Santa, ain't you?"
"Yes, Chuck, I am. But you don't really want a drink of whiskey for Christmas, do you?"
The old man was chuckling.
"That's what I said I wanted, you old rummy. What kind of Santa are you, anyway?"
"Come now, Chuck. If there was one thing you could have for Christmas, what would it
be?"
The whiskey was getting to Chuck, and he became somber. "If I could, I'd like to see my
Dad for one last Christmas. He may not make it another year, and I haven't spent
Christmas with him in a lot of years. But I guess that's a moot point. It's already
Christmas Eve, he's fifteen hundred miles away in Ohio, my truck is trashed, and I'm
broke. Neither Santa nor the devil himself could get me home by Christmas day. If you
were a real good Santa, you'd give me a lift in that sleigh of yours, or put a couple
thousand bucks into my stocking tonight. Right now, I'd just settle for another drink."
The old Santa put his gloved hand on Chuck's shoulder. "Have faith, my boy. This is
Christmas Eve, the night when miracles happen and dreams come true. The Lord blessed
the world with a miracle on that first Christmas, and many smaller miracles have
happened each Christmas since. You don't have to believe in Santa Claus, or reindeer, or
buy a lot of fancy gifts for everybody, you just have to believe in the spirit of Christmas;
peace on earth and goodwill to men. Miracles can happen, boy, you just have to find the
spirit of Christmas, and believe. Getting that chip off your shoulder would help a lot too."
Chuck got up from his stool. "That's all well and good...you old geezer. If you're not
going to buy me a drink, I'm gonna go to the little boys' room." Chuck stumbled off,
mumbling to himself as he zeroed in on the restroom door. "Old rummy tells me I got a
chip on my shoulder. What does he know anyway, sitting on a street corner all day,
ringing his bell? I got plenty of Christmas spirit...and if he'd buy me another drink I'd
have even more. Hee, hee..."
When Chuck returned to his stool, the old man was nowhere in sight. "Hey bartender.
Where did that old wino Santa Claus go?"
The bartender looked at Chuck, puzzled. "What Santa Claus?"
"The one that was sitting next to me. I was talking to him. He was going to buy me a
drink."
"You must be pretty drunk, pal. There wasn't anyone sitting next to you. You were all by
yourself, talking to yourself." The bartender's voice hardened, "I think you'd better leave
now. You're too drunk. Don't make me call the cops."
Chuck stared at the bartender. "You must be blind, and you're definitely not in the
Christmas spirit, are you?" He gave the bartender the universal sign of good luck, with
his finger, and stumbled out of the bar.
Outside, the air was cold and flakes of snow fell lazily from the dark sky, reflecting the
twinkling lights of the big Christmas tree in Ripley Park. Chuck trudged south on Main,
under the wreaths, garlands, decorations, and multi-colored lights that dressed the street
up for Christmas. He noticed the sign, pointing the way to the Raton Lions' City of
Bethlehem display, as he approached Apache Avenue.
As Chuck turned west on Apache, he realized that he'd never visited the popular
Christmas display before. "In ten years, I've never been there. I guess now is a good time
to see what everyone fusses about. It's not like I've got anything better to do. Maybe
there's a building or something up there that I could sleep in. Sure is cold."
The cold mountain air and the long walk up the avenue to Climax Canyon left Chuck
winded, and somewhat sober by the time he reached the entrance to the City of
Bethlehem. He passed through the archway under the shadow of the trumpeting angels
that adorned each side, and continued up the dirt road into the canyon. He caught sight at
once of the nativity scenes that made up the City of Bethlehem, each made up of colorful
wooden images, brightly lit against the canyon walls. He stopped at each one and read the
storyboard that told of the scene's place in the story of the first Christmas. Glowing
images of angels stood guard on the rocky canyon walls. As he came to the scene of
Christ in the manger, he had to admit to himself that, while not high tech, the City of
Bethlehem was indeed a special place.
Chuck spotted an old railroad car around a bend of the canyon. He remembered that the
Lions used it for storage. "I'll bet it's unlocked. Looks like as good a place as any to catch
some sleep, without freezing to death." As he got closer to the car, he spotted the glow of
a campfire farther up the canyon. The scent of cedar smoke and roasting meat began to
filter into his nostrils. He could see the outlines of two people in the camp, and an Indian
style teepee stood behind them.
Chuck stopped in awe just outside the light of the small camp. The man inside the camp
was magnificent. He was an Indian warrior; of what tribe Chuck could not guess. His
sleek body was clad in deerskins, and a huge buffalo robe draped his wide shoulders. It
never occurred to Chuck that an Indian warrior, in the middle of Climax Canyon, in the
middle of the night, in the middle of winter 1996, was at all out of the ordinary. It
somehow seemed that he belonged there.
Sensing that someone was watching, the Indian turned and stared right at Chuck, his
black eyes piercing through the night. Chuck tried to speak, but the words would not
come. He wasn't afraid, he just seemed to have forgotten the mechanics of speech. The
warrior walked quickly towards Chuck, raising his coup-stick to strike, but Chuck stood
his ground, frozen for no reason he could think of. The warrior stopped short, inches
away from Chuck's bearded face. He looked fiercely into Chuck's eyes, then at once his
expression softened. He lowered the coup-stick and took Chuck gently by the arm,
leading him into the camp. Chuck followed unquestioningly. He and the warrior hadn't
shared a word, yet they seemed to understand that neither man meant the other any harm.
As Chuck's eyes adjusted to the glow of the campfire, he noticed the young woman
sitting near the flames, tending to the rabbit roasting over them. She was a pretty thing;
her skin was a golden brown, and her eyes were big and brown like a doe's. She paid no
mind to Chuck, continuing to see to supper.
The warrior gestured to Chuck to sit, and then turned to fill his beaver-fur clad pipe.
Chuck watched in wonder as the warrior carefully, almost reverently filled the reddish
stone pipe with tobacco. He then presented the pipe to the sky, the earth, and the four
directions, before lighting it with an ember from the fire. When he was sure the tobacco
was well lit, he passed the pipe to Chuck, who clumsily repeated the ritual and took a
deep drag off the pipe. The tobacco was pungent and harsh, but its smoke further calmed
and relaxed him. The warrior nodded and smiled, taking back the pipe and drawing upon
it himself.
The woman started to rise with two clay bowls, but the warrior jumped to his feet and
stopped her. He took the bowls and motioned for her to sit back down. She shot him a
look that confirmed to Chuck that she was definitely his wife, and sat back down. The
warrior returned, handing Chuck a bowl of rabbit stew, grinning sheepishly.
Chuck ate the stew without really tasting it. He wondered who these people were, where
they were from, and what the heck they were doing out here. As Chuck began to ponder
the question, a scream pierced the night. He looked to the Indian woman, as the warrior
jumped up and ran to her side. As he held her in his arms, Chuck noticed for the first time
that she was pregnant...very pregnant. "Oh boy," he thought, "she's gonna have her baby
now, isn't she?"
The warrior was in a panic. This was obviously his first child, and nothing in his
upbringing had taught him the first thing about child birthing. That was a woman thing,
something that warriors could not be bothered with. He loved his wife dearly, though,
and he would have gladly traded his warrior status if only he could help his wife now. His
black eyes suddenly met Chuck's gaze, and Chuck understood the pleading look at once.
"Me?" he thought to himself, "What do I know about delivering babies?"
They helped the young woman into the teepee, and down onto a buffalo robe. Chuck
thought about what to do next. "Boil water, I've got to boil water." He ran out of the leanto
and gathered snow, which he placed, into the pot over the fire. The warrior followed,
understanding...sort of. Instead of going back into the lean-to, Chuck sat at the fire.
"Better to mind the water than to go back in there. Women have been doing this for
centuries without my help. Maybe it'll be all over before I get back in there."
The scream of the woman dimmed Chuck's hopes. The warrior glanced at him, worry and
concern evident in his eyes. Chuck avoided his stare and turned his attention to the pot
over the fire. The woman screamed again. Chuck grabbed a ladle and stirred the pot of
melting snow furiously. He could feel the warrior's eyes on his back. As another scream
tore the night, Chuck felt the grasp of the warrior's hand on his shoulder. He could stall
no longer. He rose and walked into the lean-to, praying as he went.
As Chuck knelt down beside the young woman, he was suprised to see the form of a baby
in her arms. She had done it herself! Chuck's elation was short lived as he noticed the
sobs of the woman, and the stillness of the baby. Without hesitation, he reached for the
baby, held him up by the legs, and slapped his backside sharply. To his relief and
amazement, the baby burst into a wailing cry. Chuck and the baby's mother were so
delighted they decided to join him, and tears of joy flowed freely.
The warrior burst into the teepee. He had heard the cries of the baby, but the tears coming
from Chuck and his wife confused him. As he cautiously moved forward, his wife placed
the baby in her arms and presented him to her husband. He realized then what the tears
were about, as his own eyes became moist. He took the child into his arms, and held him
proudly. Sensing that the new family should have some time alone, Chuck stepped out of
the teepee and snuggled down into a warm buffalo robe.
As Chuck lay in the warmness of the buffalo robe, the warrior emerged from the teepee
and knelt beside him. The warrior reached into the deerskin pouch around his neck, and
removed a small object. He placed a small onyx coyote into Chuck's hand and nodded
with gratitude. Chuck smiled and reached his right hand out to the warrior, and they
shook. The warrior rose and returned to the teepee as Chuck placed the coyote in his
pocket, and settled down to a contented sleep. For the first time in his life Chuck
understood the true meaning of Christmas, and he realized that the Christmas spirit need
not be limited to only one day a year.
Chuck was exhausted, and he soon fell into a deep sleep. He dreamed that he was gliding
through the night air in a sleigh, at the side of the old Santa he met in the bar.
*****
"Chuck, wake up." The sound of his father's voice echoed through his head. Then a sharp
blow to his ribs woke him to the glare of the morning sun.
"I said wake up, boy. I thought you was dead."
Chuck looked up into the deeply lined face of his father, confused. "Naw Dad, I was only
sleeping...DAD!! Where am I? How did I get here? What the..."
"I was just going to ask you the same thing, son. What are you doing sleeping here on the
porch? You could have just knocked. I don't know how you got here, but by God I'm darn
happy that you are. It's been a long time... too long."
The words of the old Santa in the bar popped into Chuck's mind. "Miracles can happen,
boy, you just have to find the spirit of Christmas, and believe."
Chuck looked at his father and smiled. "I got pretty drunk last night, Pop, and I don't have
the slightest idea how I got here, but I'm glad to be here too. Merry Christmas, Dad...I've
missed you."
He could see the tears welling up in the old man's eyes. "Let's go inside, Pop. I'll cook
Christmas dinner for you, and we'll watch some football; just like we used to."
Chuck put his arm around the old man and helped him hobble into the house.
Later that afternoon, Chuck and his father relaxed in the living room, watching football
on the television. They were discussing the loss of the Cleveland Browns football team to
Baltimore when the newsbreak interrupted the game on TV. The newsman was
interviewing a wild-eyed teenager wearing a Plain Dealer newspaper bag around his
shoulder.
"I swear it's true, mister. I saw Santa Claus land his sleigh right here on this street. He had
another fella riding with him, but he was sleeping. I wouldn't lie about something like
that."
Chuck's father pointed to the TV. "By God, that's my paper boy. What's wrong with these
kids today, anyway...Santa Claus landing here on our street. Those drugs are going to
destroy this country."
Chuck didn't answer. The previous night's dream replayed in his mind.
"What's the matter with you, boy? You're as red as a beet. Did you drink too much wine
with your dinner?"
"No, Pop. I'm OK. I think I'll get some air, though." He walked out of the house into the
chill of the Cleveland evening. His hands were cold, so he stuffed them into his pockets.
He felt an unfamiliar object in his pocket, and pulled it out to see what it was. It was an
onyx coyote. Chuck smiled and continued walking down the street with the coyote
clutched in his hand. He remembered that native Americans called the coyote the
"trickster". He knew that he'd been blessed with not one, but two miracles the previous
night, but he also knew that nobody would ever believe him if he told them about it.
Chuck knew, and that was all that mattered. As he turned to return to his father's house,
the clanging of a Christmas bell, rung by some distant Salvation Army Santa Claus,
echoed through the night.

---
go ahead share your thoughts with me now, my ears are open. I'm always eager to hear what you think.

follow me on Twitter and facebook

---

---

---

austin bloggers

Powered By Ringsurf

It Happened One Christmas

It Happened One Christmas

by Daniel 'Chip' Ciammaichella,

A picture could never do justice to downtown Raton at Christmastime. Traveling north on
Main, one is treated to the twinkling glow of multi-colored Christmas lights lining the
street and adorning the well-kept storefronts, all nestled under the imposing, snowcovered
mountains and mesas that separate New Mexico from Colorado. At this late hour
on Christmas Eve the view was unspoiled by the presence of people and vehicles. Most
folks were at home with family and friends, celebrating and looking forward to the magic
of Christmas morning.
Despite the charm of downtown Raton, Daryl Washburn wasn't in a mood to appreciate it
as he trudged up Main past the Christmas tree in Ripley Park. He was having a hard time
getting into the Christmas spirit this year. Daryl, along with his wife and twin daughters,
had moved to Raton almost two years earlier. He had taken a job at the Cimarron
underground coal mining operation, but was recently laid off when the company shut the
mine down. Daryl had been looking for work ever since, living off of his severance pay
and doing any odd jobs he could find. His truck needed a transmission, he was a month
behind with the rent, the kids were outgrowing clothing and shoes rapidly, and his wife
Sara had recently quit working at the Loaf-n-Jug because of the advanced state of her
pregnancy. It was going to be a lean Christmas for the Washburns.
As Daryl turned up towards Sugarite and the north part of town, he stopped to adjust the
armload of packages he was carrying. These packages were all the presents the
Washburns would get this Christmas. He'd gotten a winter coat and a doll for each of the
twins, slippers and a ten-dollar pair of earrings for Sara, and a small turkey for Christmas
dinner.
"Not much, but better than nothing." he mumbled to himself as he continued on his way
towards home. He had hoped to buy more, but he'd lost the money to do so. It was his
own fault. Daryl had figured on saving a few bucks on a Christmas tree by just cutting his
own from up on the Old Pass Road. The tree turned out to be a very expensive one
indeed, after the property owner had him arrested and the judge socked him with a three
hundred dollar fine.
"If it weren't for bad luck, I'd have no luck at all," he'd told the judge.
Despite his current run of bad luck, Daryl refused to let go of his lifelong dream. He
wanted to own his own small business. Ever since high school Daryl had been interested
in computers and the way they would change the way Americans lived, worked, and
played. He figured that with the right computer equipment and software, he could offer a
variety of services from his own home, starting off part-time as he worked a regular job
and building up to a full time endeavor.
Back home in Kentucky, he had followed in his father's footsteps and worked in the coal
mines. Unfortunately, the coal mining business back east was mediocre, at best. Just as he
would begin to earn enough money to start saving for his dream, the lay-offs would
come. When he did return to work, it was all he could manage just to pay the bills that
had piled up while he was laid off. He jumped at the chance to work in the New Mexico
mine. He worked hard, was well liked, and saved every penny he could. Just as he'd
caught up on paying moving expenses, Sara discovered she was pregnant again. Then the
Cimarron mine closed down, and Daryl was out of work again.
As Daryl made his way through the crisp Raton winter night he didn't notice the gay
decorations, the twinkling lights, or the sweet smell of burning cedar and pinon that
wisped up from every fireplace. His mind was so cluttered by his own problems he didn't
even notice the struggling figures under the railroad underpass, until he was right on top
of them. A feeble cry for help jolted his senses back to the here and now.
"Help me somebody! Please, don't do this."
Not ten feet in front of Daryl was an old man dressed as Santa Claus, lying on the ground,
pleading with three youths who were kicking him as he lay defenseless.
"Come on, old man. Give us your money or we'll hurt you bad."
"Yeah, you fat old coot. Give up the cash."
"Please, I don't have any money. Leave me alone. I'm late; I've got to get going. Don't
you boys believe in Santa Claus?"
"Sure, we believe in Santa, don't we guys? You'd better believe in God, cause your gonna
need him if you don't hand over your wallet." The young thug punctuated his words with
a kick to the old man's ribs.
As the ugly scene unfolded before his eyes, all of Daryl's sadness and frustration turned
to rage. "Things like this don't happen in Raton, especially not on Christmas Eve," he
thought angrily. He dropped his packages and rushed toward the old man and his
assailants.
"Hey! You punks leave that old man alone."
Startled, the youths turned to face Daryl. While the three only looked to be only sixteen
or seventeen, their eyes had the hollow look of hungry wolves closing in for the kill.
Daryl had fought his share of fights, but a chill ran down his spine as he wondered if he
could handle this bunch alone. The old man in the Santa suit didn't look to be in much
shape to help out, and Daryl thought furiously for a way to get out of this in one piece.
He thought, "When in doubt, bluff".
"I've had a bad day, boys. Why don't you just go on your way and save me the trouble of
giving you the whipping your daddies should have."
The youths only laughed. "What have we here, a concerned citizen? Why don't you just
keep on walking, mister? Hurry, before we stomp on you like we did old Santa Bum
there."
The closest youth let fly a large ball of spit that found its mark on Daryl's face.
"That tears it..." Daryl launched his right fist directly into the nose of the spitter, causing
him to fall to the ground holding his bleeding, broken, nose between his hands. Daryl
then turned to face the other two thugs, but before he could lash out again he felt a sharp
pain shoot through his head, then another, and another, and another.
"So much for bluffing...," he thought as the world went black.
*****
As Daryl began to regain his senses, he felt like every part of his body was in pain. His
head felt like ten thousand little men were using jackhammers on it, from the inside. He
tried to get up, but collapsed as the world began to spin around him.
"By golly, I was starting to think that you were dead, son."
Daryl opened his eyes, and once they regained focus he saw the face of a white bearded
old man studying him. The old man's white hair and beard were matted with blood from
his nose and split lip. His blue eyes twinkled with the reflected light of the street-lamps,
though the tissue around them was red and swollen.
"Wha... what happened. I feel as bad as you look."
"Just take it easy son. Those boys gave you a pretty good beating. Sorry, but you don't
look so good yourself, you kinda remind me of ten miles of bad road." The old man
chuckled, then became serious again. "You saved me from those whippersnappers, and I
sure thank you. I'm sorry you had to take a beating on my account. You broke that one
fella's nose pretty good, and I'll bet the others really hurt their hands on your head." He
chuckled again.
"Don't make me laugh, old man. It hurts too much. Who the hell are you anyway?"
"Don't you recognize me?"
Daryl sat up and studied the old man. He had taken a bit of a beating himself, and his red
Santa suit was soiled and torn.
"Sorry, I don't. Maybe if you took off the Santa outfit."
The old man's massive belly shook as he laughed. "It's no costume, son. I'm the real
thing. I'm Kris Kringle."
"Yeah right. I'm serious, laughing kind of hurts right now. Help me up and I'll walk you
to the police station."
"Oh, no, no. That won't do at all. I've still got a lot of ground to cover tonight. I'm late, I
must get going."
"Don't be silly. The police department is just a few blocks away. Let me just get my stuff
and I'll walk over there with you. I'm O.K. Nothing broken or anything."
Daryl turned to retrieve his packages.
"I'm sorry, old timer. Things like this usually don't happen around here. Those young
punks should be.... Wait! Where's my packages! Those little so and so's stole my
Christmas presents and my turkey!"
Daryl's hand shot to his rear pocket. "They stole my wallet too! Of all the bad luck. I
knew I should have minded my own business. Did you see which way they went?"
No answer.
Daryl turned to face the old Santa. "I asked you if you saw which way they... Old man?"
Daryl's gaze fell on an empty street. The old man in the Santa suit was nowhere to be
seen.
"Just great. I get my butt whipped, my wallet stolen, lose my Christmas presents and
Christmas dinner, and that crazy old man just wanders off. OLD MAN, COME BACK!"
Daryl hollered in frustration.
Once he realized that the Santa was indeed gone, he began to rant, rave, and hit the
concrete sides of the underpass. I can't repeat his words in mixed company. Suddenly,
Daryl's ranting words were drowned out by a piercing, WHOOP, WHOOP. As Daryl
turned towards the sound, the bright beam of the police spotlight blinded him.
"Now you guys show up."
*****
Later, the police cruiser pulled up slowly in front of Daryl's house.
"Thanks for the ride, guy. I appreciate it."
The police officer leaned towards the passenger side door.
"No problem. Sorry about the hard time we gave you tonight. You've got to admit, you
were acting pretty crazy, and your story sounded even crazier. Santa getting mugged… I
can't remember the last time Raton had a mugging, let alone on Santa Claus. Merry
Christmas to you."
"Yeah, some Christmas. Thanks again, officer."
Daryl's mood had improved somewhat, but as he approached his front door he was filled
with sadness. Christmas was ruined. He'd lost his presents for Sara and the kids, he'd lost
Christmas dinner, and he'd lost the little money he had left.
"Darn crazy old man probably deserved to be mugged. Should have just minded my own
business."
Sara was awake. The police had called and assured her that he was all right, but Daryl
could tell that she had been crying. Daryl fell into her arms.
"I'm sorry babe."
His wife smiled sadly, "No use crying over spilled milk. Come on to bed and tell me all
about it."
Sara and Daryl checked in on the kids before retiring to their bedroom. Daryl thought to
himself how sweet and innocent his daughters looked.
"It's not fair that a bunch of young punks and a crazy old man should ruin their
Christmas. It's just not fair."
As he lay in his bed, Sara stroking the hair on his forehead, Daryl relived the events of
the night. Sara was silent after he finished. For a moment neither spoke, then Daryl broke
down and began to cry.
"I'm so sorry, Sara. I've ruined Christmas. When will I ever learn? I'm just a born loser.
You and the kids would be better off without me."
Sara took Daryl's head into her small hands and looked him in the eye. Daryl could see
anger behind her ocean blue eyes, and he turned away.
"Here it comes," he thought to himself.
"You listen here, Mr. Daryl Washburn. You're no loser and I love you very much. I won't
have such talk. You're a good husband and father. The twins adore you and I hope this
little package I'm carrying now will be a boy... and I hope he grows up to be just like his
daddy. You did the right thing tonight. You couldn't just stand by and watch a poor
helpless old man get beaten and robbed. I'm proud of you, and I'll not tolerate any more
self-pity. You didn't ruin Christmas, and neither did that old man or those terrible young
hoodlums. Christmas has nothing to do with money, or turkeys, or presents. You're safe,
you have a family that loves you, and we're together. What more could anyone ask for?"
Daryl raised his head and looked at his wife, tears welling in her eyes, proudly defiant.
She never looked more beautiful.
"I love you, Sara."
"Turn out the light, darling. Tomorrow is another day."
*****
The excited screams of Daryl's twin daughters woke him after it seemed he had just fallen
asleep.
"Daddy! Mommy! Wake up! It's Christmas!" Molly and Millie jumped into the bed, then
back out, too excited to stay still.
"O.K. girls, go on downstairs. Daddy and I will be down in a minute. We need to talk to
you."
Millie ran out, Molly close on her heals.
"Can we open our presents, Mommy?" they pleaded on the way out.
The girls were gone in a flash, saving Daryl and Sara the difficult answer.
"I guess we'd better get it over with."
Arms around each other, Daryl and Sara walked down the stairs, each dreading having to
face their daughters empty handed on Christmas morning. Daryl's heart was almost torn
to shreds when he saw the confused, worried look on the faces of his girls as they
searched the house for presents they knew had to be somewhere.
"Santa didn't come, did he?" Millie's eyes were filling with tears.
Molly was more optimistic. "Maybe he's playing a trick on us. Kinda like the Easter
Bunny does." Her voice didn't sound confident.
Daryl started to speak, but the words wouldn't come. Sara took charge, wiping her tear
soaked eyes. "Girls, let's sit down and talk..."
The ringing of the doorbell gave Sara a reprieve.
"Who could that be? Get the door Daryl, I need to put something on." She streaked up the
stairs.
When Daryl opened the door, he almost had a stroke. The police officer who had helped
him the night before was standing on the porch, and he seemed to have the entire police
department with him… and the fire department as well.
"Uh... Merry Christmas officer... er... officers. Can I help you?" Daryl's voice was meek,
indeed.
"Sorry to bother you at home, sir. But we figured you would want this stuff."
He handed Daryl a few packages.
"I believe that these were the items stolen from you last night."
Daryl was dumbfounded. "How did you find them?"
"Well sir, the punks that stole it from you turned themselves in, and brought their loot
with them. It seems they had a good night robbing citizens and looting businesses, but
met up with some guy dressed in a Santa suit who scared the bejabbers out of them. They
were so scared of the guy that they confessed to about three dozen robberies and
burglaries, committed over that last month. They asked us to protect them by putting
them in jail. Go figure."
"Daryl, why is the whole police department here?" Sara joined her husband at the door,
her eyes wide with wonder.
"And the fire department too, ma'am," piped the policeman, "We needed some help in
getting all your other stuff over here."
Now Daryl was confused. "What stuff? This is all I had, except for a turkey."
"We got your turkey too, sir. It wasn't in such good shape though, so these guys and I all
chipped in to get you this one." The officer snapped his fingers, and a young fireman
stepped forward and handed Daryl a thirty-pound Butterball.
Sara's eyes were beginning to get moist again. "Thank you all so much, but what is all
that other stuff?"
"Well ma'am, that's a funny thing. We figured that you all needed a few more toys for
your kids, so we went to load up the SWAT wagon with our leftover Toys-for-Tots stuff.
When we opened the door of the wagon, we found a bunch of Christmas packages, all
with your names on them. The darn wagon was so full of stuff; we had to call the fire
department to help us deliver it to you. I don't even want to think about how it all got
there. We see lots of weird stuff in our line of work. I quit asking questions a long time
ago."
As Daryl and Sara stood and stared, jaws dropped to their chests, the police and firemen
formed a bucket line and began passing brightly wrapped packages to each other, and
into the house. Molly and Millie began tearing the wrappings off at once, their delighted
screams filling the paper-strewn air. It took most of the morning to unwrap all of the
presents. There were toys and clothing for the twins, as well as for the little one on the
way. There were grown-up presents as well. Sara got the set of books she wanted, the
complete works of Stephen King. Daryl got a state-of-the-art computer, along with a
printer, assorted software, and a book: How to Make Money at Home With Your PC.
Daryl's dream seemed within his reach once again.
"Yes, tomorrow is another day," he thought to himself.
*****
Later that evening, Daryl laid back in the easy chair. The combination of all the
excitement of the last day, and a great turkey dinner, had exhausted him. He didn't try to
rationalize the events of the day… that could be done later, after a good night's sleep. For
now, he was content at admitting that Christmas was indeed a magical day. He got up and
went to the kitchen to turn off the lights. Sara had already gone up to bed, and he was
anxious to snuggle up in a nice warm bed. He flipped the switch and returned to the
living room.
"I told you I was running late."
The voice made Daryl jump. Sitting in Daryl's easy chair, smoking a pipe, was a chubby
little old man with a white beard. His red suit was soiled and torn. His eyes had a twinkle
that made Daryl recognize him at once.
"You'd better go up to your wife now, son."
Before Daryl could speak a word, he was gone. He rubbed his eyes, not sure of their
accuracy.
"I'd better get some sleep," he mumbled as he trudged up the stairs, checked in on the
girls and went to his bedroom. Sara was still awake, gazing out the window at the moon
rising over Johnson Mesa.
"This is a magical town," she whispered.
"Yes, it is."
Sara turned to face him. There was a mysterious glow in her eyes. "There's one more
present for you."
"You mean Molly and Millie missed one?"
"No dear." Her eyes were laughing.
"You mean...?"
Daryl wasn't that tired. He reached out to embrace her.
Sara began to giggle.
"Yes. I think it's time to go to the hospital."



---
go ahead share your thoughts with me now, my ears are open. I'm always eager to hear what you think.

follow me on Twitter and facebook

---

---

---

austin bloggers

Powered By Ringsurf

Great Christmas Post scheduled

After 2-days off from work I'm headed back. I will be spending part of Christmas eve at work. I will be off Christmas Day and Sunday. After that I just don't know. I will get my new schedule while I am work. Even though it is fast food I am really enjoying my time there.
However, I also enjoy working on this blog. That is why I would like to let you know I have a blog post scheduled to post tomorrow at 8 am central time. I think you will enjoy this post, and hope you will visit the blog to take a look at it. Also throughout today I have 2 Christmas stories scheduled to post. In the mean time I hope you and your family enjoy your time together. God Bless each and every one of you.



---
go ahead share your thoughts with me now, my ears are open. I'm always eager to hear what you think.

follow me on Twitter and facebook

---

---

---

austin bloggers

Powered By Ringsurf

THE GIFT OF THE MAGI

THE GIFT OF THE MAGI

by O. Henry

One dollar and eighty-seven cents. That was all. And sixty cents of it was in pennies. Pennies saved one and two at a time by bulldozing the grocer and the vegetable man and the butcher until one's cheeks burned with the silent imputation of parsimony that such close dealing implied. Three times Della counted it. One dollar and eighty- seven cents. And the next day would be Christmas.

There was clearly nothing to do but flop down on the shabby little couch and howl. So Della did it. Which instigates the moral reflection that life is made up of sobs, sniffles, and smiles, with sniffles predominating.

While the mistress of the home is gradually subsiding from the first stage to the second, take a look at the home. A furnished flat at $8 per week. It did not exactly beggar description, but it certainly had that word on the lookout for the mendicancy squad.

In the vestibule below was a letter-box into which no letter would go, and an electric button from which no mortal finger could coax a ring. Also appertaining thereunto was a card bearing the name "Mr. James Dillingham Young."

The "Dillingham" had been flung to the breeze during a former period of prosperity when its possessor was being paid $30 per week. Now, when the income was shrunk to $20, though, they were thinking seriously of contracting to a modest and unassuming D. But whenever Mr. James Dillingham Young came home and reached his flat above he was called "Jim" and greatly hugged by Mrs. James Dillingham Young, already introduced to you as Della. Which is all very good.

Della finished her cry and attended to her cheeks with the powder rag. She stood by the window and looked out dully at a gray cat walking a gray fence in a gray backyard. Tomorrow would be Christmas Day, and she had only $1.87 with which to buy Jim a present. She had been saving every penny she could for months, with this result. Twenty dollars a week doesn't go far. Expenses had been greater than she had calculated. They always are. Only $1.87 to buy a present for Jim. Her Jim. Many a happy hour she had spent planning for something nice for him. Something fine and rare and sterling--something just a little bit near to being worthy of the honor of being owned by Jim.

There was a pier-glass between the windows of the room. Perhaps you have seen a pier-glass in an $8 flat. A very thin and very agile person may, by observing his reflection in a rapid sequence of longitudinal strips, obtain a fairly accurate conception of his looks. Della, being slender, had mastered the art.

Suddenly she whirled from the window and stood before the glass. her eyes were shining brilliantly, but her face had lost its color within twenty seconds. Rapidly she pulled down her hair and let it fall to its full length.

Now, there were two possessions of the James Dillingham Youngs in which they both took a mighty pride. One was Jim's gold watch that had been his father's and his grandfather's. The other was Della's hair. Had the queen of Sheba lived in the flat across the air shaft, Della would have let her hair hang out the window some day to dry just to depreciate Her Majesty's jewels and gifts. Had King Solomon been the janitor, with all his treasures piled up in the basement, Jim would have pulled out his watch every time he passed, just to see him pluck at his beard from envy.

So now Della's beautiful hair fell about her rippling and shining like a cascade of brown waters. It reached below her knee and made itself almost a garment for her. And then she did it up again nervously and quickly. Once she faltered for a minute and stood still while a tear or two splashed on the worn red carpet.

On went her old brown jacket; on went her old brown hat. With a whirl of skirts and with the brilliant sparkle still in her eyes, she fluttered out the door and down the stairs to the street.

Where she stopped the sign read: "Mne. Sofronie. Hair Goods of All Kinds." One flight up Della ran, and collected herself, panting. Madame, large, too white, chilly, hardly looked the "Sofronie."

"Will you buy my hair?" asked Della.

"I buy hair," said Madame. "Take yer hat off and let's have a sight at the looks of it."

Down rippled the brown cascade.

"Twenty dollars," said Madame, lifting the mass with a practiced hand.

"Give it to me quick," said Della.

Oh, and the next two hours tripped by on rosy wings. Forget the hashed metaphor. She was ransacking the stores for Jim's present.

She found it at last. It surely had been made for Jim and no one else. There was no other like it in any of the stores, and she had turned all of them inside out. It was a platinum fob chain simple and chaste in design, properly proclaiming its value by substance alone and not by meretricious ornamentation--as all good things should do. It was even worthy of The Watch. As soon as she saw it she knew that it must be Jim's. It was like him. Quietness and value--the description applied to both. Twenty-one dollars they took from her for it, and she hurried home with the 87 cents. With that chain on his watch Jim might be properly anxious about the time in any company. Grand as the watch was, he sometimes looked at it on the sly on account of the old leather strap that he used in place of a chain.

When Della reached home her intoxication gave way a little to prudence and reason. She got out her curling irons and lighted the gas and went to work repairing the ravages made by generosity added to love. Which is always a tremendous task, dear friends--a mammoth task.

Within forty minutes her head was covered with tiny, close-lying curls that made her look wonderfully like a truant schoolboy. She looked at her reflection in the mirror long, carefully, and critically.

"If Jim doesn't kill me," she said to herself, "before he takes a second look at me, he'll say I look like a Coney Island chorus girl. But what could I do--oh! what could I do with a dollar and eighty- seven cents?"

At 7 o'clock the coffee was made and the frying-pan was on the back of the stove hot and ready to cook the chops.

Jim was never late. Della doubled the fob chain in her hand and sat on the corner of the table near the door that he always entered. Then she heard his step on the stair away down on the first flight, and she turned white for just a moment. She had a habit for saying little silent prayer about the simplest everyday things, and now she whispered: "Please God, make him think I am still pretty."

The door opened and Jim stepped in and closed it. He looked thin and very serious. Poor fellow, he was only twenty-two--and to be burdened with a family! He needed a new overcoat and he was without gloves.

Jim stopped inside the door, as immovable as a setter at the scent of quail. His eyes were fixed upon Della, and there was an expression in them that she could not read, and it terrified her. It was not anger, nor surprise, nor disapproval, nor horror, nor any of the sentiments that she had been prepared for. He simply stared at her fixedly with that peculiar expression on his face.

Della wriggled off the table and went for him.

"Jim, darling," she cried, "don't look at me that way. I had my hair cut off and sold because I couldn't have lived through Christmas without giving you a present. It'll grow out again--you won't mind, will you? I just had to do it. My hair grows awfully fast. Say `Merry Christmas!' Jim, and let's be happy. You don't know what a nice-- what a beautiful, nice gift I've got for you."

"You've cut off your hair?" asked Jim, laboriously, as if he had not arrived at that patent fact yet even after the hardest mental labor.

"Cut it off and sold it," said Della. "Don't you like me just as well, anyhow? I'm me without my hair, ain't I?"

Jim looked about the room curiously.

"You say your hair is gone?" he said, with an air almost of idiocy.

"You needn't look for it," said Della. "It's sold, I tell you--sold and gone, too. It's Christmas Eve, boy. Be good to me, for it went for you. Maybe the hairs of my head were numbered," she went on with sudden serious sweetness, "but nobody could ever count my love for you. Shall I put the chops on, Jim?"

Out of his trance Jim seemed quickly to wake. He enfolded his Della. For ten seconds let us regard with discreet scrutiny some inconsequential object in the other direction. Eight dollars a week or a million a year--what is the difference? A mathematician or a wit would give you the wrong answer. The magi brought valuable gifts, but that was not among them. This dark assertion will be illuminated later on.

Jim drew a package from his overcoat pocket and threw it upon the table.

"Don't make any mistake, Dell," he said, "about me. I don't think there's anything in the way of a haircut or a shave or a shampoo that could make me like my girl any less. But if you'll unwrap that package you may see why you had me going a while at first."

White fingers and nimble tore at the string and paper. And then an ecstatic scream of joy; and then, alas! a quick feminine change to hysterical tears and wails, necessitating the immediate employment of all the comforting powers of the lord of the flat.

For there lay The Combs--the set of combs, side and back, that Della had worshiped long in a Broadway window. Beautiful combs, pure tortoise shell, with jeweled rims--just the shade to wear in the beautiful vanished hair. They were expensive combs, she knew, and her heart had simply craved and yearned over them without the least hope of possession. And now, they were hers, but the tresses that should have adorned the coveted adornments were gone.

But she hugged them to her bosom, and at length she was able to look up with dim eyes and a smile and say: "My hair grows so fast, Jim!"

And them Della leaped up like a little singed cat and cried, "Oh, oh!"

Jim had not yet seen his beautiful present. She held it out to him eagerly upon her open palm. The dull precious metal seemed to flash with a reflection of her bright and ardent spirit.

"Isn't it a dandy, Jim? I hunted all over town to find it. You'll have to look at the time a hundred times a day now. Give me your watch. I want to see how it looks on it."

Instead of obeying, Jim tumbled down on the couch and put his hands under the back of his head and smiled.

"Dell," said he, "let's put our Christmas presents away and keep 'em a while. They're too nice to use just at present. I sold the watch to get the money to buy your combs. And now suppose you put the chops on."

The magi, as you know, were wise men--wonderfully wise men--who brought gifts to the Babe in the manger. They invented the art of giving Christmas presents. Being wise, their gifts were no doubt wise ones, possibly bearing the privilege of exchange in case of duplication. And here I have lamely related to you the uneventful chronicle of two foolish children in a flat who most unwisely sacrificed for each other the greatest treasures of their house. But in a last word to the wise of these days let it be said that of all who give gifts these two were the wisest. O all who give and receive gifts, such as they are wisest. Everywhere they are wisest. They are the magi.

---

This is a timeless classic. It is a beautiful story of love. Yet, it also shows how out of love, we can get the perfect gifts those we love, even if we don't have a lot of money. Here's wishing each of you the Merriest Christmas, as we head towards Christmas Day, Saturday.

---
go ahead share your thoughts with me now, my ears are open. I'm always eager to hear what you think.

follow me on Twitter and facebook

---

---

---

austin bloggers

Powered By Ringsurf